


bemily one-shots

by occasionallywritesthings



Series: bemily one-shots [1]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Secret Crush, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-30 23:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13962291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionallywritesthings/pseuds/occasionallywritesthings
Summary: A collection of one-shots for Bemily Week 2018.





	1. as long as i've got you, baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily needs someone to fake date. Bad.

When Emily storms into the Bellas’ house on Tuesday afternoon claiming she needs someone to pretend-date her for a luncheon at her aunt’s house this weekend, Beca tenses up – she’s the only person home right now.

“Beca!“

"No, no no no no no—”

“Beca, _please_. I need someone cool and successful. Exactly like you! You’d be perfect!”

“Cool and successful? Dude, I’m an _intern_. I get coffee and bagel bites for people who don’t even know my _name_.”

But Emily pouts, and begs, and she looks so much like downtrodden puppy that Beca _has_ to.

* * *

“Kill me now,” is what Beca says when they’re sitting on Emily’s bed and she’s running Beca through some quick facts on color-coded note cards.

“So, Aunt Gertrude is married to Uncle Simon, who used to date Aunt Gemma, and Aunt Sally, and my mom, so—“

“Christ, how did she end up marrying this dude when he’s practically gone through all of your mom’s sisters?”

“True love finds a way, Beca.”

“He probably just has a big dick.”

“Uncle Simon is 54 and I prefer we not think of him that way. He’s a really nice guy. He wears bowties and looks like the old man from Up.”

Beca shakes her head. “Chicks from the olden days, man… low standards.”

“He’s got a real Southern charm. That’s what all of them say. Also, it’s not like he dated them at the same _time_.”

Beca sighs. “Okay, who else is there to know about?”

“Grandpappy Bo.”

“Grandpappy Bo?” She echoes. “Well, what’s the deal with this guy? Did he date your grandmother on your dad’s side too?”

“No. He’s just allergic to nuts. So I’d really appreciate it if you can keep an eye out and make sure he doesn’t eat any.”

Beca rolls her eyes so hard she thinks they fall out of her head.

* * *

“So… what am I doing here again?” Beca asks once they get out of the Uber, staring at Emily’s aunt’s house.

“You’re my fake girlfriend here to make me look like I lead a successful college life.”

“You need a _girlfriend_ to lead a successful college life?”

“Well, I need to be dating _somebody_. I’ve been single my whole _life_. I’m tired of all of them asking me if I’m dating anyone and getting all judgy when I tell them I’m not. I told all of them the last time I saw them that they better watch out because once I get to college, I’ll really blossom, and I’ll meet someone really cool and awesome, and also I may have kind of bet all of my relatives 50 bucks each if I’m not dating anyone by the time we have our next luncheon at Aunt Gert’s.” 

Beca’s eyes widen then. “50 _bucks_? _Each?_ Emily, you have like a million aunts and uncles!”

“I know! That’s why I needed someone to fake date real bad!”

Beca puffs out a lungful of air. Christ, she can’t believe Emily got herself into this. 

Beca tugs the end of her dress down before blowing some hair out of her face. “Okay. Let’s do this.” She holds her hand out.

With a determined nod, Emily smacks their hands together and holds.

* * *

“So Beca, Emily tells us you’re in the music business?”

Beca looks to Emily then, who seems to be really into her peas.

“Um… yeah. I’m… I’m tentatively breaking into it,” she decides.

“Tentatively breaking into it, so does that mean you aren’t **actually** _in_ the—“

“You know, Uncle Jer, Beca works for one of the best producers in Atlanta. He has like 50 Grammys.”

“Is that so?” He looks to Beca.

Beca blinks. “Uhhhh, yeah. Yeah, that’s totally true.”

“So, what do you do for this _great_ producer who has _50_ Grammys?” Wow, Beca wants to punch Aunt Sally.

“Well, Aunt _Sally_ , I… supply him with… _important_ resources. And I perform efficiently to make sure that our label continues to be world-renown.” 

That’s a really nice way of saying she makes sure Sammy has his coffee and burritos within a moment’s notice so that he doesn’t throw a fit and the company doesn’t go down in shambles, right?

“It’s important work,” Beca says quickly, hoping the subject will be dropped.

Emily just nods in support. Beca feels her hand rest on top of her bouncing knee.

* * *

Beca thinks she is going to _snap_. Emily’s aunts and uncles are the biggest pieces of shit in the world. They’re so judgmental! It’s like nothing Emily does is good enough, and Emily is one of the best people she _knows_. She’s good, she’s kind, she’s got passion. Sure, she’s clumsier than a newborn giraffe, but the kid’s got the biggest heart.

It’s when Uncle Orville is talking about how Emily could stand to practice her handwriting more so that her p’s don’t get mistaken like f’s that has Beca unclenching her fists and standing.

“You know what? You guys are _dicks_.”

Audible gasps are heard throughout the room.

“Emily is the nicest, most hardworking person I know and you guys just _suck_ at seeing that. She once stayed up till _two_ teaching Ashley basic Inventory Control concepts so that she could finish her paper on Business Management or whatever. She doesn’t even _study_ that. And she _always_ makes sure to bring people water when she leaves the room to get some, and that’s saying a _lot_ because there’s like _ten_  people living the Bellas house. That’s _ten_  glasses of water. Do you know how _heavy_ that is?!”

Emily is staring at Beca, wide-eyed.

“She’s so nice, and _good_ , and sweet, and you all are _jerks_ for giving her a hard time.”

She holds her hand out for Emily and the girl takes it without question, standing.

“So like, sorry to disrespect or whatever, but she’s not coming back here if you guys are just gonna dog on her the whole time. It _sucks_. And it’s not fun.” She feels Emily squeeze her hand. “I can’t believe she actually still likes you guys even if that’s basically all you do to her when she’s here.”

Beca looks at all of them disapprovingly before she’s turning her body towards the door.

“C’mon, Em, let’s go.”

Beca walks them right out of there and no one says a word, the only sound heard after Beca’s last words is the slam of the door behind them.

* * *

It’s Sunday afternoon when Emily tells her that her aunts and uncles Venmo’d all of the money to her so she’s basically rich now and wants to take Beca out on a really fancy dinner – anywhere you want!

“Venmo? What’s that?”

“It’s like an app where you can transfer people money.”

Beca’s face is still contorted in a look of confusion.

“Bec, my grandpappy is 84 and _he_ knows what Venmo is.”


	2. you're the coffee that i need in the morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beca has trouble getting the coffee jar down every morning.

Let it be known that Beca Mitchell can do things by herself.

If she ever gets to the point where she can’t do things by herself, she’ll put out an ad for someone to euthanize her but that’s another problem for another time. Now her problem is that Stacie is _spiting_ her. They are the only _two_ people in this house who use this one brand of coffee, and it’s them. Beca thinks this is payback for hoarding the container during Midterms.

She’s on her tiptoes, arm extended and fingers stretching to get up the shelf.

“Jesus Christ—”

Her life would be _so_ much easier if she would just drag the stool by the kitchen island over to climb on top of but she’s being stubborn and she also doesn’t want to wrinkle her work outfit. Besides, she can reach it, it’s honestly not that high—

The tips of her fingers just barely graze past the container when someone’s hand swoops past and takes the jar.

“Here.”

Beca looks beside her. It’s Emily, holding a Go-Gurt in one hand and the jar in the other.

“Em. Uhhh—”

“You wanted the coffee, right?”

“Yeah.” She shakes her head. “Yeah, yeah.” She’s taking it from Emily.

Emily nods before putting her mouth on the Go-Gurt and walking away.

* * *

It happens again. God, Beca hates this. She doesn’t know how it’s back up there again but she has a feeling it’s Stacie’s doing. She’d left it on the counter beside the coffeemaker after she used it yesterday morning so it was within reachable distance, and now it’s back on that godforsaken shelf.

Before Beca can even try to reach the jar, she feels someone behind her and watches as a hand snatches it off of the shelf.

“Here you go, Becs—”

She whips around at the quickness of it all.

“Emily, Jesus—”

Emily blinks and takes a step back, stunned by Beca’s reaction.

“Sorry—“

“No, I just—god, you’re so _quiet_.”

You’d think with how clumsy the other girl was that she’d make some noise whenever she walked into a room. Beca breathes out, willing her heart rate down a little.

Emily shakes the jar side to side. “Your coffee?”

“ _Thanks_ ,” Beca says, sounding a little curt but is overall well-meaning as she takes it from Emily.

Emily doesn’t seem to take offense though and smiles gladly when she sees Beca with the jar. She turns around, opens the fridge, and takes out a Go-Gurt. She tears the edge of it open, pops it in between her lips, and then walks out.

Beca blinks once, processing the randomness of it all, before she proceeds to make herself a cup.

* * *

It becomes kind of a routine. Every morning around 7 when Beca is trying to reach for her coffee, Emily will pop out of nowhere, help her, and leave with a Go-Gurt. Beca feels like this has been happening so frequently, it’s a miracle Emily hasn’t run out of Go-Gurt tubes. (Chloe must be buying her more. Chloe buys everything for everyone in this house.)

It’s 7:12AM and Beca still hasn’t been able to get her coffee off of this stupid shelf. It may partly have to do with the fact she’s also not trying as hard (because she’s grown used to Emily just showing up randomly to help her) but she has to be out of this house by 7:20, so that leaves her with only 8 minutes to make her coffee and take her morning sip before she has to go. And Beca prefers to finish her cup before she leaves because she doesn’t want to be that bitch that walks out with a tumbler. Coffee is supposed to be drunk out of mugs or to-go cups. Fuck this insulated tumbler business.

She looks towards the kitchen door and frowns. Where the fuck is Emily?

She doesn’t know what comes over her, but Beca leaves the kitchen and goes up the stairs to go to Emily’s room. When she opens it, cold air greets her and she has to fight the urge to feel sleepy when she steps into the darkness of Emily’s shared room with Stacie (who shocker isn’t home right now because she likes to do yoga at the ass-crack of dawn).

“Emily?”

She hears the bed creak and a cough before a ‘hmm?’ from the girl in question.

“Dude, are you okay?”

Emily tugs her blanket tighter around her body. “I’m sick.” She coughs again.

Beca goes over to her and lays the back of her hand on Emily’s forehead.

“Yeah, you’re pretty warm.”

Emily just whines, nuzzling the side of her face further into her pillow.

Beca presses her lips together, staring at Emily for a beat, before she leaves the room.

She returns some 5 or so minutes later with a small tray of things that she leaves on Emily’s side table. There’s a glass of warm water, a container of Vitamin Gummies, a stick of Go-Gurt, and an orange juice.

“Here.” She places a box of cold medicine on Emily’s bedside. “Take two when you’re like alive or whatever.”

Emily just grunts a little in response.

Beca shakes her head at the sight of Emily curled into her bed before she leaves. She makes sure to turn up the temperature of Emily’s AC too so it’s not too cold. 

* * *

Later when she gets home, Beca has a bag of takeout from Emily’s favorite sandwich place and a cup of soup from this diner that she really likes. Obviously, not for her, but she thinks Emily might like it.

“Aw, thanks, Bec. That’s so sweet.”

Emily is sitting against her headboard with her blankets bunched below her waist.

“Have you just been sleeping all day?”

“Well, I did get up to pee twice,” Emily shares. Beca smiles. “But mostly I’ve been in bed.”

“Well, eat. Your body’s probably dying.”

She notices the tube of Go-Gurt has been eaten though and the jar of gummies are no longer sealed. All of the red ones have _suspiciously_ gone missing. Beca smirks.

“I can’t believe you got me all of these treats,” Emily is saying excitedly as she opens up the brown paper bag and begins to look through it.

“It’s a sandwich and a cup of soup, I hardly call those treats. Besides, I feel like it’s the least I could with you helping get the coffee jar down almost every day. I’ve seriously got to tell Stacie to stop doing that.”

“Stacie’s not doing that,” Emily tells her.

Beca looks up from where she’s watching Emily go through the bag.

“I put it up there.”

Beca’s eyes widen.

Emily’s do too.

“Is it not supposed to go there..?”

Beca’s eyes widen even further.

“Ohmygod, it isn’t, is it? Oh my god, Beca, I’m _so_ sorry—”

“Why do you think it _goes there_? Have you _seen_ me?!”

“I just moved in here! I don’t know where everything goes—“

Beca rolls her eyes before dropping it with a deep sigh. “Sheesh, Legacy. You’re a piece of work.”

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, clearly feeling bad over her mishap.

“Don’t apologize,” Beca tells her sincerely. “I guess embarrassing myself every morning is a small price to pay for a couple of minutes with you before I go.”

Emily looks up from where she’s fiddling with the wrapper of the sandwich then. Her once-pouted lips spread into a smile.

Beca smiles back at her.

“Eat your fuckin’ sandwich, Junk.”

“Yes, ma’am.”


	3. but saying it out loud is hard (so i won’t say it at all)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily is in love with Beca and Beca doesn't know.

It’s not a love triangle. It’s really not.

And that’s because Beca doesn’t know Emily likes her.

But Emily _loves_ Beca. She’s so into her, it’s _crazy_. She thinks Beca is _so_ smart. She’s _so_ talented. She’s _so_ unbelievably gifted, and she’s really thoughtful in her own way, and she _cares_ even if she acts like she doesn’t. 

Emily is _so_ into her.

But none of that matters.

It really doesn’t.

Because Beca looks at Chloe likes she puts the stars in the sky. And Chloe looks at Beca the exact same way.

(And gosh, if she didn’t like Beca, she would put Cupid’s bow on _herself_ and get them together already instead of this much more painful version where she watches them fall in love without either of them knowing it.)

So it’s not a triangle. It’s more like forcing a smile when you see Beca and Chloe working on a set list together, and acting like everything is _fine_ when they invite you along for ice cream on Thursday nights.

It’s pretending that your heart is not beating out of your chest when Beca smiles that super soft smile at you that you don’t see her give anyone else (except Chloe, maybe – she gets all of Beca’s best smiles).

And it’s hard. It’s so hard because Beca is so nice to her.

Beca hangs inside with Emily when all of the Bellas want to go out and party. Beca cares how Emily’s songwriting is going. Beca sits down with her when she’s stuck on a line and works through it with her until she’s not only finished the line but the entire verse. Beca puts Post-Its on the last juice box in the fridge with messages that say things like: ‘ _This is Emily’s juice box, fuck off Amy you’ve had yours –B_ ’ or ‘ _Emily’s!!! Back of!!! –B’_. (Because Chloe gets a pack that has enough that each of them can drink one box but hers always goes missing until the one day it doesn’t.)

Beca cares about her. But maybe not the way Emily wants Beca to. It’s selfish – she knows. But people are allowed to be selfish, right? They’re allowed to feel, and want, and covet (is that the right term?), and still be completely valid. It’s not _right_ , but it’s _wrong_ either. Sure, it makes her feel like a bad person, but as long as she’s the only one dealing with it and not anyone else then it’s fine, right? She just has to work through her ugly green monster of issues. Kill it maybe. With like… an axe. Or something equally as terrifying. And soon preferably.

Because she hugs Beca a little too long now. And leans her head on Beca’s shoulder too often. And maybe stares at her during Bella Movie Nights. (She got caught by Stacie once.)

(She swore she wouldn’t let this crush get out of hand and look where that’s gotten her: crazy in love with someone who calls her ‘kid’ and pats her on the back when she does something stupid.)

She just wants to stop daydreaming of what it would be like to be with Beca, and hold hands, and make music together, and be _happy_.

(She thinks it’ll be really great: Emily would write the lyrics and Beca would make the music. They’ll take the music world by storm and Beca would punch the paparazzi that try to invade their personal space when they’re at The Grove shopping for outfits. And she knows, okay. She knows this is getting insanely detailed and out of hand. And she also knows she has approximately three and a half more years of college to go while Beca only has a half year more.

It _sucks_.)

On the bright side, that probably means Emily will only be in love with Beca for half a year more. Because she’s sure it’ll fade once Beca graduates and leaves. And that’s a good thing.

“Em?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re crying.”

Emily blinks, touching a hand to her cheek and feeling wetness there.

It’s around four in the afternoon. Beca has just gotten back from class. She’s staring at Emily with concern in her eyes but also maintaining a distance like she’s allergic to anyone that can produce tears (it’s such a Beca thing and she hates that she thinks it’s cute).

“Um, probably just really dry eyes is all.” She sniffles, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

She thinks Beca is going to drop it until she hears her speak again:

“You sure..?”

God, she really wishes Beca would just stop being totally caring. Because she really does care. And it’s even cuter that like, she doesn’t feel comfortable doing it but she’s trying anyway.

“I’m fine. I’m totally fine,” she promises. “I’m always fine.”

Beca squints at her a little, like she’s deciding if that’s true or not.

“I promise I’m okay,” Emily says again.

“Okay then…”

“It’s just dry eyes.”

“Dry eyes. Sure.”

“It is.”

“Okay.”

“What? Do you think I’m lying?” She has the audacity to sound innocent. She really doesn’t like herself.

“No, I believe you, I believe you,” Beca gives in with a raise of her shoulders, hands up.

Emily nods, letting her gaze fall back down to the table.

Then she feels a hand on her shoulder. It stays there for a moment before giving a small squeeze.

“Hang in there, Em,” Beca tells her in the softest voice.

It makes her heart _hurt_.

She just nods vigorously and hopes Beca walks away to leave her to sulk in private.

She does a moment later.

And Emily _misses_ the feeling of Beca’s hand on her shoulder.


	4. do i make waves in your body, love? (do you get high, is it just too much?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily likes tattoos but she really hopes her soulmate doesn’t get a sleeve because she’s not cool enough to rock that. Pretty much a ‘the tattoos you have on your body will show on mine bc we’re soulmates’ thing!!

It starts with a tattoo of **_headphones_** on her left wrist. She can live with that. She loves music. Music is her life. It’s fine. Sure, she’s only sixteen, and legally, she’s not allowed to have tattoos yet but if this is her soulmate’s doing than her mom can’t really say anything about it, can she?

But then she wakes up one day and has a **_grasshopper_** on her right forearm and like... Okay, grasshoppers are cute. Kind of? It’s not the bug Emily would have picked if she had a choice, but it’s not the worst. Because it could have been a spider. And then Emily is sure something is wrong with the system because she can’t live knowing her soulmate is the kind of person who thinks spiders are enjoyable enough to have on your body. Like permanently. Forever.

* * *

The next tattoo that appears on her body is a line of script on her left upper-forearm. ‘ ** _turn the summer into dust_** ’... Emily frowns at the line of text before she’s going to her laptop to type the words into the Google search bar. The first result is ‘Wake Up by Arcade Fire lyrics’. Hm, Arcade Fire. She’s never listened to them before but she’s definitely going to listen to this song.

Emily ends up listening to the song all week and feeling sad but happy at the same time. The song makes her feel like she’s in between feelings. But it’s uplifting at the end, and she really likes that. It’s like letting yourself feel sad and crying it out before wiping your tears away and going “Okay, I’m done. Time to get shit back in order.” when you’re finished. She really likes the song. And Arcade Fire. And her soulmate for introducing her to this song. She always dances to the end bit of Wake up, letting her body shake out the sadness she let build while listening to the earlier parts of the music.

* * *

She screams when she gets out of the shower and sees she has a tattoo of _ **pink lotuses**_ running down her right shoulder and shoulder blade. Okay, _soulmate_ , she may be eighteen now and it’s all fun and legal, but this tattoo is _huge_ and you just got one last week! Emily can’t help but stare at the ink on her body and touch it because it really is there and is not subtle _at all_. Great. Now she can’t wear strappy tops without someone asking her about this piece of self-expression on her body that she has no idea how to explain.

She normally doesn’t mind all of the tattoos. She used to only get them once a year. Now all of the sudden her soulmate seems to have come into a lot of money because two in a span of 8 days is _hefty_. She almost wants to do something to spite her soulmate, maybe get a tattoo of something they wouldn’t like -- like of a clown fish or something. But then Emily realizes that it’s her body too and she really doesn’t want that on her body. She just hopes her soulmate doesn’t decide to get a sleeve randomly (which would take a while, granted) because she’s not cool enough to rock that.

  


The next tattoo she gets is of **_equalizer bars_** on her mid-lower back. Again, something she notices when she steps out of the shower. She doesn’t hate it though. She actually really likes it. It makes her wonder just how much her soulmate likes music. Because equalizer bars meant they were knowledgeable enough to understand the different frequency bands that make up the music spectrum and just the right adjustment to set them to for a perfect OMG sound. Or maybe they know not that much about music at all and just really like equalizer bars which all in all is also completely valid. Emily runs her hands along the tattoo once more before wrapping a towel around herself.

* * *

Emily has a plan. 

She’s sitting in a tattoo parlor, right wrist out as she waits for the artist to come back with a draft she likes. When he returns with a piece of paper with just what she wants on it, she nods her head and tells him ‘yup, that’s it’.

* * *

They are _**coordinates**_. Coordinates to her favorite ice cream parlor that has been in her town for ages. She has an entire summer before she has to go off to college, so that basically means she has a full of summer of going to her favorite ice cream parlor everyday and waiting for someone that has any of the 6 tattoos on her body. She hopes her soulmate understands what it means. She just really wants to meet them.

* * *

She goes everyday. She knows it’s not logical, especially since there are twenty-four hours in a day and she only waits at the parlor for 3 or 4 at most. There was one day she waited for 5, having brought a book and her music journal along. But there’s no point. They could have come at a time she wasn’t there, or they came but she couldn’t figure out who they were because they weren’t wearing clothes that revealed their tattoos, or simply: her soulmate didn’t understand the coordinates tattoo. Or maybe they did and they didn’t care enough to come.

It was stupid. It was a stupid plan.

What’s even more stupid is when she goes to the parlor one day and sees a paper outside of it that says ‘announcement’. The only other word she registers on the paper is ‘closing’ before she’s rushing inside.

(”You’re closing?!” She shrieks, paper in her hand.)

But yes, her favorite ice cream parlor is closing. Mrs. Riviera is retiring. She’s made ice cream for 50 long years, has no kids to pass it on to, and she doesn’t want to risk another owner ruining her business and reputation. So she’s closing. And moving to Miami to spend the rest of her days by the beach looking at handsome men in all-too-short swimming trunks. It’s a little too much information but Emily guesses she’s happy for Mrs. Riviera. She really has been running this place all on her own for many years, and she did deserve a break... 

But that meant...

* * *

On the very last day the ice cream shop would be open, Emily camps there all day. Mrs. Riviera says she’s closing the doors for good at 6PM but she’ll give Emily till 6:15PM because she’s a nice girl, which Emily is thankful for.

No one with any tattoo she recognizes shows up and Emily resigns to the fact that she’ll probably never meet her soulmate and only have their tattoos to know them by.

After she gives Mrs. Riviera a final goodbye hug, she sighs and asks if she can sit at the table outside for a little longer. It’s not inside the store so it’s not a big deal. Mrs. Riviera lets her and Emily nods a little sadly before watching the woman walk off. She shrugs off her hoodie (because it’s actually super hot today without the familiar cool of the ice cream shop’s air-conditioning) and slumps into the hard plastic chair. Her life is a bust.

“Um, hey.”

Emily looks over her shoulder. It’s a girl in an all-black outfit, hands in the pockets of her leather jacket.

“Nice tattoo.”

She’s referring to the pink lotuses on Emily’s right shoulder.

“Thanks,” Emily mutters before turning around to continue sulking. She’s _not_ in the mood to tell this person she doesn’t know what the tattoo means.

“What does it mean?” The stranger asks, walking past Emily and around the table to sit across from her.

“Why don’t _you_ tell _me_?” Emily sasses, immediately regretting it right after. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I’ve just--”  


“Okay.”

“What?”

“Okay. As in, okay I’ll tell you what it means.”

Emily blinks.

The stranger before her shrugs off her leather jacket and hangs it over the back of the seat. Then she’s pulling up her sleeves because it’s obviously way too hot today and Emily sees it:

Headphones tattoo.

Grasshopper tattoo.

‘turn the summer into dust’ tattoo.

_**Coordinates tattoo.** _

“You’re...”  


“Yeah. Smart, by the way: the coordinates. I cannot believe you chose an _ice cream shop_ that’s _closing down_ for it. You know how awkward this would be if I left Portland any other day and came here to find rubble and an empty lot?”

Emily is staring in awe because she can’t believe it: this is her _soulmate_.

The girl across from her picks up on her wonderment and smirks. But just that. She smirks and says nothing else, like she’s waiting for Emily to make the next move instead. So she does:

“What’s your name?”

“Beca.”


	5. plot twist (i never thought it would end up like this)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They don't talk about it until they do.

_“What are we?”_

_“What?”_

_“What are we?” Emily repeats. “Like, you and me.”_

_“Ummm…”_

* * *

It starts when Emily moves to New York because she finds work there after graduation.

She, Amy, and Chloe help move her in. Amy mysteriously disappears two boxes in – shocker. Chloe _actually_ helps but has to leave after an hour because she has a date to get ready for. And as much as it sucks, it means Beca is left with the responsibility of moving the boxes Chloe had helped bring up from out in the hall to inside of Emily’s room.

“Thanks for helping me out with this, Beca. You really don’t have to, and it means a lot that you’re here.”

Beca blows upwards towards her hair, trying to move it out of the way before she adjusts the way she carries the box in her hands. “Yeah, well, solidarity, you know? I know how much it sucks moving in.”

(When Beca, Chloe, and Amy agreed to move in together, Beca pretty much did the majority of the moving in because Chloe flew in late from Florida. Amy basically like sat on the counter eating gummies while Beca slaved box after box. It was a real foretelling of what living with the two of them would actually be like and yet—)

* * *

When they finish moving all of the boxes in and unpacking a majority of Emily’s shit, it’s dinner time. Or rather to Emily, it’s dinner time. Beca can’t remember the last time she ate on schedule. She doesn’t have breakfast, lunch usually takes place late in the afternoon-ish for her while she works, and she sometimes doesn’t even have dinner because she’s so busy trying to turn steaming piles of crap into passable material for her clients.

“I’ll get us pizza! And beer! I’m 21 now, I can do that.”

“Mhm. Well, I hope you know I’m staying here while you do that.” 

Beca sits down on what’s both Emily’s living room and bedroom floor. (She has a sofa bed, so if it’s not pulled out, it’s her living room.) There’s really not a lot of space in New York apartments, especially New York apartments for newly graduated eager beavers who are just happy they got a job in _New York_. (Yeah, Beca was that person once so she really shouldn’t give Emily crap about it.)

Emily says something about being back in twenty or so minutes and Beca just barely nods before falling backwards to lie like a starfish on Emily’s hardwood floors. (Okay, that’s the one really nice thing about Emily’s apartment – the floors. It’s not disgusting linoleum.)

* * *

Emily returns with not one but _two_ six-packs of beer and a giant box of pizza. Beca’s eyes widen at the sight.

“Jesus.”

But then Emily is happily walking over to where Beca is and before they know it, they have a little indoor picnic set up complete with fake tea light candles from IKEA and an expansive white rug that’s way too soft for its own good. (“You’re so going to stain this in two weeks.” “I’ve actually already gotten some hot sauce on it. It’ll come out with club soda though, right?” “I literally have _no_ idea how to get stains out of anything.”)

They keep the apartment dimly lit just to save on electricity. Plus, it makes it seem like a fancy restaurant – Emily’s words, not hers.

“This is _so_ awesome. Eating pizza in an apartment – _my_ apartment – with like tea light candles and the lights mostly off. It’s like they shut off my electricity and we’re trying to make do!”

“Yeah, that’s not something to be excited about…” Beca points out.

Emily seems unfazed by it though and continues on eating her pizza, ripping out a bite.

They go from barely talking while eating pizza to talking a lot while drinking beer. Beca is glad Emily likes beer because Chloe likes shots and vodka with diet Coke (they’ve banned her from Jiggle Juice after a disaster during Beca’s Sophomore year) and Amy drinks whatever god-awful concoction she manages to come up with using at least 3 different types of spirits. It’s fucking dangerous, and Beca steers clear of that. There’s nothing wrong with a good old fashioned beer. Emily agrees too. Beca likes that about her.

* * *

“His name is Pimp-Lo?”

“Literally. Like, he could have any stage name in the fucking world and the dude decides to go with Pimp-Lo. Like, it sounds like you could easily say Pimple, right? I actually thought it was Pimple at the start.”

“Pimple would make more sense. Even if it’s not the catchiest name out there.”

They talk about everything. From Beca’s work to Emily’s excitement over her new job and her new life here. She still talks about New York like it isn’t a shit city, but Beca gives her about a month – _two_ months at most – before she hates this goddamn place like Beca does.

“You don’t actually hate New York City,” Emily challenges playfully. “It’s like the greatest place to fall in love.”

“In _love_? Are you _kidding_ me? Where is anyone going to fall in love? Under the lights of Times Square where they’re gonna get _pickpocketed_? Or Rockefeller Center at Christmas where it’s _crowded_ with _tourists_?”

“Um, how about Central Park?” Emily points out like it’s obvious.

“Where people having sex in public?!”

“They have sex in public in Central Park?!”

“I mean, I’ve seen it!”

“What?!”

“Yeah!”

Their voices get louder and more shrill and it’s definitely because they’re drunk, and then they’re laughing and Emily is falling sideways until she’s shaking with laughter near where Beca lays against a mound of pillows.

“You’re fucking drunk,” Beca says with a snort, throwing her head back.

“You’re drunk!” Emily gets out through giggles.

“We’re drunk!” Beca agrees, throwing a fist up.

* * *

It’s not long before declarations of drunkenness turn into a dance party.

It begins simply enough: Beca plugs her phone into Emily’s gorgeous Marshall speakers and turns on ‘Game On’ by Demo Taped – a new favorite of hers that keeps her sane while she’s making her way to and from work. (“You have to hear this song I’ve been listening to. It’s fucking chill as hell.”)

 _I can't help my mind right now, it's_  
_Moving got my heart rate bouncing_  
_Can't keep you out my thoughts, it's classic_  
_Baby game on, game on_

“I love it! Wait, now you have to listen to something I’ve been listening to lately.”

Emily queues up ‘Mad Love’ by Sean Paul, Becky G, and David Guetta to play after Beca’s song finishes.

“You like David Guetta, right?”

Eyes slightly hooded from the buzz she feels, Beca answers. “I mean, he hasn’t had a new album out since 2014 but yeah, he’s pretty solid.”

The opening beats of Emily’s song start to filter out of her speakers and Emily begins to move to it. Beca thinks she’s drunk as _fuck_ when she pays a little too much attention to the way Emily’s hips swing and the way her body moves to the beat. Then she’s holding her hands out to where Beca is situated against her pillow mound, inviting her to join. Beca thinks it’s a weird combination of beer, tiredness, and Emily’s contagious excitement but Beca’s hands clasp on to Emily’s and she’s being pulled up to dance with the girl.

_Good lord, girl, you’re going so hard (whoo)_  
_Girl your legs look the best when I'm spreadin' the two apart_

Dancing with Emily at some point turns into Emily dancing against Beca, dropping low. And they’re definitely both riding on some weird high induced by post-move in tiredness, beer, and fullness from all of the pizza when Beca pulls Emily in once she turns around, mid-rise from having ‘dropped it low’.

They’re definitely, definitely drunk because Emily kisses Beca back.

They’re definitely, definitely, definitely drunk when spontaneous kissing turns into making out on Emily’s floor.

They’re definitely, definitely, definitely, _definitely_ drunk when clothes start getting discarded and hands glide against smooth skin.

Though, Beca can’t really attest to how drunk she actually is when she’s still able to recognize most of the songs that come on shuffle.

 _I never met nobody_  
_Who sees the stars the way you do_  
_Nobody that can love me_  
_When I'm stumbling 'round the room_  
_You put your hands on my body_  
_And you give me that room_  
_And I know that you got me_  
_When I'm falling into you_

Emily seems to be coherent enough to grin against Beca’s lips and mumble how she ‘really likes this song’. _It’s a pretty good song_ , Beca thinks. But she can’t seem to get further than that because Emily flips them over and all logical thought leaves Beca’s brain.

* * *

They don’t really wake up because they don’t really _sleep_. When they’re done, they lay on Emily’s floor, a wrinkled blanket on their bodies as they stare at the ceiling and listen to music, neither of them really making a move to talk about what just happened.

“I really like this new Post Malone song,” Emily breaks the silence.

“Yeah, it’s good,” Beca answers way too quickly.

And they fall back into silence just as fast after that. Beca hates that she no longer feels the haze in her head that makes her loose and thoughtless. She chews on her lip for a moment before cutting through the quiet like Emily did after some moments.

“I should be heading back.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.”

“Yeah, I’ve got work, and—”

“Of course. I mean, you can’t miss work.”

“Right? Totally. So I should just—”

It’s an awkward dance of incomplete sentences and the both of them shuffling around and tugging their clothes on.

“Oh, that’s mine.”

“Oh right, this must be mine then.”

“Yeah.”

Awkward chuckle.

“Oh, don’t forget your jacket.”

“Right, yeah. Thanks.”

“I think this is your sock.”

“Right. Definitely. Definitely mine. This is yours?”

“Oh yeah, thanks.”

“Right.”

Beca adjusts the way her clothes fit on her body before blowing a huff of air out. “Well, I guess I should— you know, head out now.”

“Right, yeah.”

“Thanks for the…” _Don’t say sex._ “The pizza. Beer. All of it. Good stuff.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for the… you know, all of it.”

Nervous laughter. “Right yeah. Anyway, bye—!”

“Bye—!”

Beca mentally slaps herself in the head all the way home. And she hates that when she gets into her apartment, Chloe is still awake and can tell she just had sex.

Beca lies and says she was on a Tinder date.

“Enough about me, how was yours?”

“What?”

“Didn’t you like have a date with some dude on Tinder?”

“Oh, yeah, he had a cute dog and his sheets were made of Egyptian cotton.”

Beca nods. Sounds about right.

* * *

The second time something happens is when Chloe decides they should all go clubbing to officially welcome Emily to New York City. 

It seems safe enough when the ginger first brings it up. Yeah, it’s a club, but there will also be other people there – namely Chloe and Amy – so there’s a buffer and a distraction. But Beca fails to take into account that there’s also alcohol and the fact that clubs get really sleazy after midnight.

She’s high on energy from the dance floor and the last shot Chloe made them all do when she offers to bring Emily home – to make sure she’s safe and all of that – and Emily kisses her when they’re in the cab. After that, it’s a lot of making out while stumbling before she’s pushing Emily against her bed (pull-out couch, whatever).

* * *

When she wakes up and finds she’s in Emily’s bed and Emily is breathing softly beside her, still sleeping, Beca squeezes her eyes shut.

“Fuck.”

She slips out of Emily’s bed, tugs her outfit from last night back on, and slips out. But not before making sure Emily’s blanket is properly covering her.

What? She just doesn’t want Emily to get cold. And it’s a Saturday. Everyone deserves to sleep in and not get woken up because the temperature’s off.

* * *

After the incident at the club, Beca thinks they’ll be fine and without incident for a long while because no one’s birthday is for some time and Beca makes a promise to herself to be more careful around Emily now. But then some 4 days after that fateful night, Emily texts Beca while she’s hunched over on her bed working on this latest bullshit Pimp-Lo track.

 **Emily:** Hey!  
**Beca:** what’s up?  
**Emily:** Are you busy right now?

God, Beca recognizes what this text is. She’s seen Chloe get it _and_ give it around this time at night. Speaking of Chloe, the girl’s not even home right now because Tinder Guy actually worked out and she’s been sleeping over there more often than not lately. And while it’s nice because she gets the bed to herself, it kind of sucks because she doesn’t have Chloe to talk her out of doing shit like this. She could really use Chloe asking her why she’s putting her shoes on and where she’s going at this time of night right about now.

* * *

Beca is really bad about staying away from Emily but Emily isn’t any good at making sure Beca stays away either. It’s like there’s always a reason for Beca to come over. Whether it’s to help Emily hang this shelf to make sure it’s level or because some new Netflix special is out and she wants to watch it with somebody. (And yes, Beca knows. She’s partaken in ‘Netflix and chill’ and it’s embarrassing.)

But you know what they’re both good at? Not really talking about it after it happens. They’re so good at it that Beca’s actually been hanging out sometimes now after (even if it’s a bad idea). Like, they’ll mess around and then Emily will show Beca this new book she got on photography. Or Beca will wake up and find Emily is already moving about her home. But before Beca can make a break for it, Emily is handing her cup of coffee and sitting on the bed beside Beca to read the paper – or rather the comics part of the paper.

It’s kind of cute. Emily likes to take her time with it.

Beca tries not to think about how many times she calls Emily ‘cute’ in her head. Because it’s… yeah, it’s a lot, and she doesn’t want to think about what it might mean.

* * *

It’s been going on for about three months. They go from having excuses to seeing each other to Emily just asking Beca if she’s free to come over and ‘hang’. Well, they do ‘hang’ but not before they…

Anyway, Beca tries not to think about it. What she does think about is how she has a new mix she wants Emily to hear when she comes over at night. Or how she has a new mug for Emily to try in the morning because the girl had broken three of hers already from just sheer clumsiness.

Beca likes how they can just walk around it. It makes it uncomplicated. And it allows for Beca to be more involved in bettering Emily’s life. Without the acknowledgement of what they’re doing, Beca feels like there’s no commitment, or weirdness, in her making sure Emily has the papers she needs for work in her bag, or making Emily toast in the morning when she happens to still be asleep but Beca’s already up.

It isn’t until one Sunday morning when they’re sitting on Emily’s bed doing their thing – Emily with her comics and Beca with a cup of coffee going over her emails on her phone – that the foundations of their comfortable routine shakes because Emily decides to go off script.

“What are we?”

“What?”

“What are we?” Emily repeats. “Like, you and me.”

“Ummm…”

“Like, I know we don’t talk about it but… someone at work asked me out on Friday, and I had no idea what to say because it’s not like we have something but we don’t not have nothing either, so I just told I’d get back to him in 3-4 business days and—”

“You what?”

“I told him I’d get back to him in 3-4 business days?” Emily repeats, unsure which part Beca wanted clarification on.

Beca blinks.

“I mean, if I totally misread this and this was completely dumb of me to ask then I’ll just tell him ‘yes’ tomorrow and we can forget this whole thing—”

“No.”

“What?”

“No. I mean, don’t say ‘yes’.”

Emily blinks now.

“I…” Beca laughs shakily. Jesus, this was stupid. Why was her heart beating so hard right now? “I just… Please don’t go out with him.”

It’s all she can bring herself to say.

The expression Emily carries on her face softens, and Beca feels her heart melt. It’s completely unfair how fucking _soft_ Emily looks right now. Then Emily breaks the short silence they fell in with:

“Beca, are we dating?”

“Um—”

“Please give me an answer.”

“3.14?”

Beca hates how cute Emily looks when she pouts and narrows her eyes at what she says. It makes her smile but then she’s correcting herself:

“I… I don’t fucking know, dude. Do you want to be dating me?”

“Well… yes. But like, I wouldn’t mind going on a date first.”

“I feel like we’ve had a million of those,” Beca finds herself saying mindlessly then.

Emily beams. “So we’ve been going on dates?”

“Well, not officially. But probably? I don’t know. Don’t ask me that, I’m not good at these things.”

Emily laughs lightly. Beca smiles at her.

“You’re my girlfriend,” the taller girl decides after a beat, nodding.

It makes Beca’s brows raise but it also doesn’t scare her at all. She nods back.

“Okay.”

Emily’s smile widens until she’s grinning then she’s letting out this excited squeal and tackling Beca down against the pillows in a bone-crushing hug.


	6. more to love when your hands are free (baby, put your pom poms down for me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s like a Taylor Swift song except they’re both dorks and no one is the cool kid with the bitchy girlfriend. Just a pair of dorks meeting on the field.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to join the _marching band_.”

Jesse grins at Beca’s distaste.

“Marching Band is cool, Becs.”

“No, it’s not,” Beca argues as she adjusts the shako on her head.

“Well, too bad. You’re one of the few people I know that know how to play the flute, and we need help.”

“I’m gonna kill Lilly.”

“Hey, she’s in the hospital out with a bad foot, you shouldn’t talk ill of the… well, _ill._ ”

“That happened to her because she insists on sleeping upside down like a bat, I don’t see why I have to suffer for it.”

“Just shh, Captain Posen is coming and we need to look alert.”

“God, you can just call her Aubrey. These titles are _so_ unnecessary—”

“Beca!”

She straightens at the mention of her name. Tall and with a hard glare on her face, Aubrey comes over to stare her down.

“You know, I let you join the troop out of the charity and goodwill of my heart, I really hope you don’t make me _regret_ my decision.”

Something about the way Aubrey’s looking at her right now has Beca thinking she already does. The shorter girl smirks lazily before countering with a reply.

“I’m here because my one of my best friends is out with a bad foot and you need someone to play the flute. I’m pretty sure you need me more than I need you,” Beca points out.

It makes Aubrey’s eyes narrow and her lip jut out and if Beca wasn’t so concerned with trying to come off aloof, she’d find that kind of scary. Aubrey’s finger comes up and she’s about to say something, but the redhead that’s always with her swoops in just in time to take her hand and guide it down.

“Now now, Bree, let’s just… calm down. Bigger picture, remember? Bigger picture.”

Beca quirks a brow as the ginger begins to move Aubrey away.

“You better stay in line, Beca!” Aubrey says as she is being walked off.

“Sheesh,” Beca huffs. She brings a hand up to move her hair out of the way but it’s hard with this godforsaken thing on her head. Jesus Christ, she hates this fucking _hat_.

“It’s a shako.”

“It’s an _inconvenience_.”

* * *

“Stay on your side of the field, Conrad!”

“Jesus Christ…” Beca mutters.

She swears, every time they get like 2 minutes into the routine, something has to happen. Right now, that ‘something’ is Aubrey picking a fight with head cheerleader, Stacie Conrad.

Barden’s big thing right now is ‘unity’, and they somehow thought the best way to go about that was to make the marching band and the cheerleading team rehearse in the same space. At the same time.

Beca blows upwards towards the stray strands of her hair on her forehead, hoping it moves them out of the way. She’s just about to adjust her hat – shako, whatever – when someone bumps into her, knocking her flute out of her hand.

“Whoa—”

“Shoot, sorry—!”

They’re an awkward and imbalanced mess of a tangle. Beca tries to catch the person before they completely fall to the ground but this person also happens to be half a foot taller than Beca, so _that_ turns out well for no one. They’re on the ground, and Beca stands over them – frozen like a total idiot with her hands out.

“Jesus, Stacie, keep your cheerleaders on _your_ side of the field!”

“Emily’s just going to get water, calm down!”

“I take it you’re Emily?” Beca says, lowering her hands to help the fallen cheerleader up.

“Yup, that’s me,” Emily admits with a shy chuckle, dusting herself off. “Gosh, sorry, didn’t mean to bump into you.”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Beca says, brushing it off. She has no idea why she’s trying to be so cool about this, she’d normally yell at anybody else but this Emily person has a really ‘aw shucks’ quality about her. “You should probably tie your shoes though.”

Emily looks down then. “Crapcakes.” She bends down immediately to do them.

Beca raises a brow. Crapcakes? Really?

Emily shoots back up a moment later and flashes a smile. “Thanks!”

“No problem.”

“I’m Emily.”

“Beca.”

They shake hands. It’s kind of weird and a little too formal, but whatever. It’s better than standing around and listening to Aubrey and Stacie argue.

“New to cheer?”

“Yeah, it’s my first day,” Emily tells her with a nod.

Beca thinks she looks both excited and terrified.

“Are you new to the marching band?”

“Uhhh.” Beca looks to her left at the group. “Sort of? I’m just filling in for my friend. She fucked up her foot, so. Can’t very well march now, can she?”

The sardonic humor seems ill-placed. Beca shuts her eyes and shakes her head then.

“Sorry. I mean, yeah. I’m new I guess,” she corrects herself.

Emily doesn’t seem fazed by it, responding to Beca with a nod and a smile. “Well, that makes both of us then! It’ll be nice to know I’m not the only one on the field that’s not like, _fresh off the boat_.”

Beca’s brows furrow when Emily does what she thinks is supposed to be one of those ‘freaky freaky fresh’ movements on an imaginary turntable.

“Ummm.”

“Fresh Off The Boat? It’s a TV show?”

Beca presses her lips together.

“Eddie Huang?”

She shakes her head. “Never heard of it.”

Emily visibly deflates.

Beca finds herself adding, “But I’m sure it’s cool though.”

That makes Emily light back up again. Beca smiles at her too.

“Maybe we can watch an episode together some time,” Emily then says. “I’ll introduce you, it’ll be great. Tupac will be with us—”

“Tupac? The dead rapper..?”

“Oh, that’s the name of my hamster.”

She has a hamster named _Tupac_?

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Emily doesn’t seem to pick on Beca’s reaction to that. “Anyway, I should definitely go get something to drink now. They’ll probably fight for at least two more minutes, so that’ll give me time to run over and come back.”

“Eh, I’d say you have an extra minute to that, Stacie just flicked her hair over her shoulder and that pisses Aubrey off to no end.”

Emily chuckles then. “It was really nice meeting you, Beca.”

“Yeah, you too, Em.” 

Em? When did she become this nickname person?

Emily is nodding at her, beaming, before her expression changes to one of focus as she reaches over to move Beca’s hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

“That’s better.”

Beca blinks.

“Well, I’ll see ya later, Beca!” 

Emily then runs off. 

Beca is left stunned in place before she turns her head and watches as Emily almost trips down the steps but then catches herself just in time before pulling the door of the building open and making her way in.

“Who was that you were talking to?” Jesse asks, coming up beside her.

“Emily.”

“Emily?”

“Yeah… she has a hamster named Tupac,” Beca says, still unsure of what just happened to her.

“That’s _super_ cool.”

Or weird. 

But then Emily is coming out and running back to her side of the field, and when she passes by Beca, she waves real excitedly. 

Okay so, maybe covering for Lilly for the next two months won’t be _so_ bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i googled what they call that hats people in marching band wear and found out it was called a 'shako', you bet your ASS i was saying 'shako' all fucking day. shakoooooooooooo. (i also tried to put it in the fic as many times as possible. :P)


	7. where did we go wrong? (i know we started out alright)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the problem with dating someone who is three steps ahead of you.

It’s hard dating someone who is always three steps ahead of you.

But Emily and Beca have always made it work.

They make it work with weekly visits, nightly Skype calls, phone conversations that last for hours, and genuinely making the most of whatever time they together.

It feels like nothing could come between them no matter how difficult it is that Emily is still finishing up college and Beca is a participating member of the work force.

Emily thinks it makes it interesting, that both of them are at different points of their life and have only had about a year together where they were somewhat leading similar lives – Emily’s favorite year of college by far is her first, and that largely has to do with the fact that she saw Beca almost every day then.

Though, her second year of college is a close second because that’s the year she and Beca started dating officially. And sure, it was a little tough with their schedules being so different, but they promised each other that they were just going to have fun and not focus on what time they didn’t have together but enjoy the time they did have. Plus, it was the sweetest when Beca would come visit her on campus, even if she’d complain about how “she can’t believe she’s back here” before Emily kisses her in greeting.

And they’re so close. Emily is almost done. She has like a semester and a half left. It’s really not that long, and she’s like definitely closer to being an actual functioning adult than a stressed-out college student now because she’s mostly interning than she is in classes. She even has an apartment in the city now that her parents gladly help her out with because it’s closer to her place of ‘work’.

One of the happiest days of Emily’s life is when she brought Beca there for the first time. She put a blindfold on her and everything. It probably didn’t help that they watched the new Fifty Shades of Grey movie before it – as a joke, not for real! They just thought it was the best comedy that was out! It gave Beca way too much joke material to work with while Emily was leading her towards the elevator and down the hall once they were on the right floor.

“Is this where you finally kill me? Because we always thought your Serial Killer trait was that you were too nice.”

“What’s a Serial Killer trait?”

“Just this dumb theory that Chloe has about people who end up murdering other people.”

“I’m not about to murder you.”

“Really? So this blindfold is _not_ in fact a tactic to instill _fear_ in me before you eventually show me your evil lair and bludgeon me when I turn aroun—”

Emily lifts the sleep mask off of Beca’s eyes.

“What is this? Whose apartment are we in front of?”

Emily puts her key in and pushes open the door. “Mine! Or, like ours. If you want.”

“Emily, stop fucking with me.”

“I’m not! My parents helped move me in last weekend. Well, kind of. I still have some stuff at the Bellas house. But now that I’ve got an internship in the city, it’s more practical to have a place here than to commute from the Bellas house every day.”

“Dude, are you serious?”

“Yeah!”

* * *

It was the best three hours of their life, fooling around in Emily’s new apartment and moving around it like it was their own, until Beca says she needs to tell Emily something.

“What?”

“C’mere, sit up.”

She lets Beca help pull her up so she can sit against the headboard. She keeps the blanket to her chest. Beca snatches her shirt from off of the floor and pulls it over her head so she’s not like, naked while she breaks this ‘something’ to Emily.

She tells Emily she has a job opportunity in New York City. An honest-to-God one where she can actually _work_ as a _music producer_ that Sammy set her up with. His friend just opened up a new label there, and he suggested Beca as someone who could fill in one of the music producer slots. He’ll even fly her out there because he believes in her that much. It’s a sure thing. She just has to go there.

“Beca, that’s amazing!”

“Emily… it’s in _New York_.”

“So?”

“What do you mean ‘so’? Dude, it’s like a whole other state!”

(This is what she means by dating someone who’s always three steps ahead of her. Just when Emily thinks she’s caught up, Beca slides forward three more steps. But she’s too happy for Beca that she honestly doesn’t care what it could mean. She wants Beca to take this. She wants Beca to finally be who she was meant to be.)

“It’s your dream job,” Emily says simply, like it’s all of the explanation she needs to give.

“But what about us, you, isn’t that gonna—”

“Beca, I’m almost done with college. Sure, I’m a little bummed because I just got this place and thought we could finally move in together, but I have about eight months left, and that’s enough time to figure something out that gets me to New York. To you.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Beca says. Like she can’t believe Emily thinks it’s _this_ easy.

But it is. It is if it’s them. If it’s Beca.

To Emily, it’s the easiest thing to try and tackle if it makes them work.

“The company I’m interning for has a lot of branches,” she points out. “Their main one is in New York. If I do really well, make some connections while I’m interning… I could definitely try and aim for a job out there when I graduate.”

Beca is looking at her like she’s not sure about this and she’s terrified of a leap that’s that far – they’re not even at the gap yet and Emily’s already thinking of making the jump.

She puts her hand over Beca’s.

“It’ll work out,” she says – a promise. “Go to New York. Go to New York and tell me about it, and show me Times Square when we FaceTime, and be the best music producer this label has.”

It’s hard for Beca to fight it when Emily has this smile on her face – Emily knows this, and uses it to her advantage _frequently_. It helps make Beca relax, to not be afraid of what she can’t see.

“You’re fucking _amazing_ , you know that?”

She giggles when Beca surges forward and pushes her down against the pillows, their lips meeting together in a kiss she thinks of every time she misses Beca.

* * *

It’s been four days since Beca has called her. 

They got into a fight that was totally uncalled for on Friday, which was coincidentally a _great_ day for Emily but an absolute _shitty_ one for Beca. She thinks that’s why they fought. Because Emily was talking about how great her day was and as happy as Beca always tries to be for her, she knows it’s human to snap and just not be able to handle it sometimes. Beca yells. She yells about her job, her boss, how Emily doesn’t _get it_ because she’s not _actually_ working, and all of these things that Emily knows she doesn’t mean – she’s just upset and having bad day.

But Emily is human too. And maybe she thinks it’s a little unfair that Beca does that. Because they’ve barely spoken at all that week and Emily has been understanding and patient of Beca and her work, giving her all the space and time she needs to make an impression and complete her tasks. But she misses Beca too. She misses _them_. She thinks it’s not wrong of her to just want to talk to the person she loves and share her day. They’ve had opposing days before, simultaneous bad days even where they both eventually give in and end up basking in the comfort of each other’s voices because everything else can be difficult but as long as they both have this – them – then nothing else really matters.

Emily points out all of this and she thinks it makes Beca angrier. Beca calls her naïve. Emily calls her selfish. They say a lot of things they don’t mean, and now Beca hasn’t called her in four days.

* * *

It’s a rainy Wednesday evening when she gets home and pulls her phone out to find a text from Beca.

_I can’t do this anymore._

_I’m sorry._

_You deserve better._

_It shouldn’t have to be this hard._

_We’re just at different places._

It says all of these things that anyone would want to read, to want to know. But all Emily could think of is that Beca didn’t at all write a last ‘I love you’.

Did she stop somewhere along the way?

* * *

Puffy eyed and head aching, Emily practically lives on her couch – a knitted throw wrapped around her like she wishes Beca was right now. She stares blankly ahead at the dying candle on her coffee table. Beside it, there’s an open letter from her company that she got the same day received Beca’s texts. 

It tells her she has a job at the New York office waiting for her once she graduates in two months.

* * *

She guesses this is the problem with dating someone who’s always three steps ahead of you: 

Just when you think you’ve caught up, they’re already further away.


End file.
